Broken Together
by Prettydog200
Summary: "Chara... I think if you're around... Just living in the surface world doesn't seem so bad." As this new life opens its arms out to the most unsuspecting people, they learn something tragic; that it's not until you try to recover that you realize just how broken you really are. Chara/Frisk Chara/Flowey (Both Platonic). Floweypot AU
1. A Bond with No Treasure

Things hadn't been easy since coming back to the surface. For one, the world looked way different from the way you remembered it. Then there was all of this _school work_. When was the last time you were in school? Now things were all technical and stuff. _Typical._ Robots are taking over. You found school to be a nuisance, but you stayed knowing that your family appreciated it.

The bell rings and you're the first one out of class, making way for the fresh air outside. Before that, however, you make a mad dash for your locker and chuck your books into it. You don't want to spend anymore time in this dump than you need to. Last time you missed the bus, you were trapped here until sundown. It was only a matter of time before-

 _Chara!_

You slam your locker shut.

"Shit," you mutter. "What is it, Frisk? Can't you see I want to get out of here?" You knew there was no escaping Frisk once they caught up to you. So much for the bus. You lean against the metal, crossing your arms as your sibling fills your mind with their thoughts, their concerns. You seem to be the only one they'll let in even if you think it's out of reluctance.

 _I have to go to the library,_ Frisk speaks to you. The thought seems timid and yet you can't stop your nostrils from flaring. You clutch their wrist in an effort to rid the hot gas from your body. Honestly, it doesn't do much besides make you look like a jerk. Way to show your gratitude. They start to sweat profusely and cower, though you begin to ease your grip. Your expression softens with every breath you take. Frisk's shoulders relax as their head falls before you. They know you don't mean it, but that doesn't seem to stop the shame from eating them alive. You rub their wrist tenderly with one arm, the other bringing their head to yours.

"I'll make a deal with you," you say softly, your fingers running through their clusters of hair. "We stick around until four and then I won't give your dessert to Asriel again. Capisce?" You feel their hand on your shoulder and you let them raise their head up. Their eyebrows are furrowing as they frown at you.

 _He got sick the last time you did that._

"Yeah, because he's a sucker for his momma's cooking," you jest. You poke your sibling's belly, knowing that that sharp expulsion of breath was supposed to be a chuckle. You both knew it was true. Guess that's why Toriel won't let you do it, anymore.

Once Frisk's expression begins to lighten up, you release their wrist from your hand. "Seriously though," you say, now calm enough not to hurt one of your best friends. "Why have you been at the library so much lately?" You wouldn't mind the leisure away from home if you had your needles and threads with you, which you don't.

Frisk's body language begins shifting slightly. Something doesn't feel right. You try to clear your mind, knowing that their words would get caught in that mess of a brain of yours sometimes. The thought comes to you like a curveball. You barely make the home run by a millisecond.

 _Research._

"Really?" You ask, now it being your turn to furrow your eyebrows. "Oh sure." Research? Oh, yeah. Have they been researching how long it takes for them to knock out? Because that's what they do. Every time. Seems like school really takes the energy out of you all.

You bite down on your tongue, of course. The last thing you want to do is put them down.

 _No, I actually have been doing research,_ Frisk rebuttals, taking off their bag hastily. _I'll show you._ They get on their knees and are about to show you the current book they're reading when something dawns on you like a bell.

"Hold on," you raise your hand to stop your sibling suddenly. Something is seriously off, here. You look around with concern. "Where's Asriel?" Frisk begins to snap their head in opposing directions, too.

 _I thought he was with you!_

Just then, your phone begins to vibrate and judging from the rhythm of the vibrations, it's your surrogate mother calling you. You quickly shove your hand into your pocket only to readjust your hand to keep the thing from falling down. Your phone is about the size of a miniature tablet. Since you and Asriel share a phone, it was decided that you would have a ridiculously big contraption in your pocket. That way Asriel could play with it when you're not using it (which is almost always). It seems to keep him entertained on most days so you try to roll with it. You remove the leather magnetic clasp encasing your phone and bring it to your ear.

"Hello?" you ask. "Mom?"

"Hello, my child," Toriel greeted warmly on the other end. "Is Frisk with you, dear?" Crossing your legs, you use your free hand to prop your elbow. Frisk waves happily when your eyes shift to them.

"Yeah, they are. We're still at school." Oh, how you really wish you were on the bus.

"Oh, thank goodness," Toriel sighed with relief. "I need you both to do me a favor."

"Uh… okay," you reply questioningly. "What is it?"

"Can you pick up your brother from the psychologist?" Toriel asks. "I feel like he's gotten in trouble again."

Your hand clutches your forehead. Oh no… 5th period. It was always 5th period. The period where the three of you were pulled apart. If only you had realized sooner! You both share a class after that together. How did you not know he wasn't there? You curse yourself for being so inattentive.

"Okay mom," you reassure her urgently. "I'm on my way now." You grab Frisk's arm and drag them along as you stuff your phone into your pocket. "Guess the library doesn't sound too bad after all, Frisk." You come to the conclusion that Sans is starting to wear off on you when you wink at them.

So much for the bus.


	2. A Cauldron of Thoughts

"I told her what I usually tell her," Asriel explains dully as you both walk home. "I eat fine, I sleep well, my parents are good. Then she puts a big lollipop in my mouth and lets me out without a hitch." You smirk at the flower. He's changed dramatically since you've last seen him. You seldom see him cry and he has a bigger backbone, too. He seemed to really be following in your footsteps. You couldn't say you were too proud of that, however.

"So what lollipop did you get?" You playfully inquire.

"A tootsie pop."

"And you didn't get one for me?!"

"Get your own."

You don't find it worth it to have an old hag question your well being. Your well being is fine, anyway. At least that's what you've been telling yourself recently. At least you're not the one picking fights.

 _This is the second time this week he's done this._ You observe Frisk momentarily. Were they expecting an answer? You look over to your brother. Frisk has to keep an ice bag over his eye. Pollen and what appears to be sap accumulate on it as they move it around. Asriel winces and grunts. You guess the little guy wasn't so lucky this time around.

The sun is still in the sky when you reach your house. Toriel wanted Asriel home at once to take care of his wound. You thank the heavens above. Once the door is just feet away from you, your key chain comes flying out of your pocket and into the lock. You twist the key and with a push of your body, the door opens with ease. You all live in a modern two-story home due to all the gold you and the others acquired underground. You remember when you and Frisk used to make a profit on DogResidue and Goggles for Temmies. Some of your friends and other humans wondered how kids like you both accumulated so much gold. Frisk hates whenever you brag about it.

"Hey Mom," you say as you plop your bag on the ground. "We're home."

"Oh thank goodness," a voice hollers from another room. "Could you bring Asriel in here, please?"

You don't stay to hear the rest of the interaction. Frisk would take care of that. Instead you climb up to your room and throw your exhausted self on the bed. There are two beds in your room, Frisk and yourself each claiming one for yourselves. Fortunately, it's empty now so you have it all to yourself.

You feel around your pillow with caution until you feel a spool and pull it out. The needle comes dragging behind it. Finally you could work on your project again. At last, you take out a cloth made of green cotton, fleece and thread that you were currently sewing together. It was going to make a great gift.

 _ **...going to kill them.**_

You cringe. Your thoughts are starting to creep up on you again. A natural occurrence.

 _ **...'s kill or be killed.**_

You try to stand firm.

 **No.**

 _ **I'm going to kill them.**_

You smack your head with your palm.

 _ **...kill or be killed.**_

You smack your head again a few more times, building more power with your blows. You remain firm again.

 **No.**

 _ **I'm going to kill them all.**_

You smack your head three more times. It begins to throb.

 **NO. I.** **WON'T** **.** A prick from one of your fingers brings you back to reality. You draw it swiftly into your mouth.

"Ow," you hiss. A coppery taste fills your tongue and the finger quickly flares with pain. You toss the needle and spool on the ground along with the green cloth. "Great," you groan. "Just great." Your head won't stop pounding. You shield yourself within a quilted cocoon and shut your eyes. Maybe a nap might help clear up your mind.

 **I'm not killing anyone... I'm not** _**going to kill them all...**_ You pull on your hair in frustration.

 _Ugh._

* * *

You don't realize how deeply you fell asleep until the smell of sauce and cooked vegetables arouse you. Your sleeves and pillow case soak up the sleep and slobbering from your face. Frisk is within your peripheral vision, holding up a tray of food to you.

 _Hi Chara,_ Frisk's thought reverberates with ease. _Are you hungry?_

"Oh," you yawn and sit up on the bed. "I am. Thanks." The food staring back is a basic casserole filled with vegetables and chicken. It looks healthy. Your face shrivels at it.

 _It actually tastes good,_ assures Frisk. _And_ _it's really healthy for you. Try it._

"I know," you mutter flatly. The dreaded vegetables seem to follow no matter where you go. Yet as your mind contemplates over whether to eat this slush, Frisk leans in, waggling their eyebrows.

 _If you eat your dinner, I'll give you a treat._ The comment sounds demeaning, but the motivation is sufficient. You stuff the food into your mouth. It nearly blows you away how assaulted the greens feel in your mouth, but the cheese retaliates. Eating becomes less easier said than done.

Frisk leaves the room while you finish eating and you're alone again. Setting your empty plate aside, you look to the floor and pick up your sewing materials. The thoughts are gone. They usually stay bubbling within that caldron of a mind until you instigate them to come. Other than that, they're like whispers or the bubbling of boiling water. They're off sauntering in a corner somewhere, whispering. Preying...

You try not to instigate these thoughts, however. Right now, it is time to focus on sewing. You pull out your phone, searching for a song worth occupying your mind with, but it's filled with Asriel's trash. A groan gurgles from your throat and you roll your eyes. You were hoping Asriel would've acquired better taste by now. Obviously you thought much too high. It takes a few seconds before you find your special playlist - a composition of classical instrumentals - and you leave it playing while you sew. The melodies are what help the hot gasses cool down.

* * *

It doesn't take long before you wonder where Frisk is. You were just about done embroidering your creation. Didn't they say they had something for you? Going downstairs yourself wouldn't hurt anyone. Anyone except you. You're actually quite comfy where you sit. It would agitate you to have to go and invade the kitchen, yourself. As a consequence, you're just going to have to suffer.

You groan to yourself as you poke the needle through your creation a few more times. As you try to focus, to your disadvantage, you start to hear voices. They're getting louder along with their footsteps. You try to block them out, but they won't leave you alone. The door is abruptly smashed open. You huddle yourself against the bed frame and gasp. The rough voice doesn't seem to match the character.

"Hey, punk!" You notice Asriel was wearing an eyepatch on top of the bandages over his eye, but his face has morphed to look more like Undyne's. Papyrus is holding the plant, cackling to himself. You scold at them.

"Gah! Flowey," you yell. Your heart was just about to leap out of your chest. "What the fuck are you doing?!"

"WO-HOH! YOU BETTER WATCH YOUR LANGUAGE, CHARA," Papyrus rebukes you as Asriel gets set on the nightstand beside you. "YOU WOULDN'T WANT YOUR MOTHER TO HAVE TO CLEAN IT AGAIN, WOULD YOU?"

"No," you shout desperately and inwardly curse him for giving you that reminiscent taste of soap in your mouth. Yuck! "Can you not?"

"I'M SORRY CHARA, BUT THAT IS THE TRUTH AND AS A GOOD FRIEND I MUST WARN YOU ABOUT THE IMPLICATIONS OF YOUR ACTIONS."

"Well _friend_ ," you mutter sarcastically. "That's not a truth I particularly want to be warned about." You wonder why your mom even keeps you from cussing. All the kids at school do it, so why shouldn't you? While you speak, you stealthily hide away your gift under the blankets. You hope neither of them saw what you've been making.

Frisk suddenly stumbles into the room, bumping their head into Papyrus from behind. Thankfully they didn't stumble. They have something in their hands and you don't want that to be tarnished.

"HUMAN," the skeleton screeches. "YOU'RE RUNNING INTO EVERYTHING AGAIN." Clumsily, Frisk gives you the plate they're carrying. It's slice of Hershey's Sundae Pie. You smile at it greedily.

 _'Sorry,_ ' Frisk signs at the skeleton. You know this because you've been relearning sign language as of late. Without haste, you stuff your fork into the pie and smoother its contents all within your mouth. You needed this...

Papyrus ruffles your friend's head and tells them to be more careful next time. Then he encourages you all to go to bed.

"But I'm not tired!" Asriel protests wearily.

"FLOWERY, LOOK AT YOU. YOU'VE BEEN CROTCHETY SINCE DINNER."

"Hey, you'd be pissed too if some human punched you in the face! Those lousy... insufferable… NYGAAAAAH!"

Asriel bit his lip. You couldn't stand to hear him scream. His screeching was ear curdling. Normally, you wouldn't care. You'd laugh at these sort of things. You like seeing people in pain, but this time you feel strange. Like a part of you felt... angry? You conclude that you just find his screaming to be annoying.

Papyrus soon brought an ice bag to Asriel's eye. He's clutching his teeth hard against each other. You thought if he bit down any further that his teeth would crack. "It buuurns…" Asriel hisses. "You idiot! You think with all these bandages that I'm supposed to feel THAT?!"

"NOW FLOWERY, EVERYTHING IS GOING TO FINE. JUST RELAX!"

"No, it's not!" Asriel screams. "The next time I see Mitt's stupid face, I'm gonna kick his butt!"

Frisk tells Asriel that he shouldn't be talking like that. Meanwhile, you try to lose yourself in the pie…


	3. Beating Around the Bushes

You hate the dead of the night. Your eyes are wide open. Tossing and turning in your bed, you vainly hoping that sleep would claim you this time around. It scarcely ever does. On nights like these, the hall ways echo and groan. It puts you at unease.

This is the life nobody knows about. While your siblings are both conked out, you are fully alert, watching them. You have lived on the surface for the majority of your life. Why should you be so surprised to see yourself on the surface while everyone else is still trapped underground?

You thought to yourself that nobody knew this better than Asriel. From the way you see him twitching and moaning in his sleep, you conclude that he's trapped in another reset. You pull out the cloth you've been working on from under your pillow and wrap it gently around his stem. He seems too out of it to notice. Your feet touch the carpet with a soft thud and you quickly rush out of the room right after.

Sometimes on good days you'd find Sans wandering around. Not that you particularly _liked_ Sans. He seems to know a lot more than he lets on. On the other hand, he'd rather pick on Asriel than pick on you. So there was that good. When you and your adoptive family first came out of the underground, you would find Sans awake all the time but now you'd have to pray in order to bring those nights back again. Those nights where you weren't all alone.

The darkness seemed to bother you, tonight. You're not afraid of the dark, but you scavenge around the house, looking for anything that could resemble a light and by narrower terms, life. Darkness seemed to close all around you and the moon was too young to shine its light. The only thing that seems to keep you company now are your thoughts.

 _ **I won't kill them... I won't kill them all...**_

You're trying so hard not to smash your head or pull your hair out. With haste you turn on a light and take a glass from the kitchen. You are making your way for the bathroom. Upon walking in, the medicine cabinet stares at you right in the face, along with your reflection. Your skin is pale and your hair is disheveled. Though, that's not why you always stop and stare at yourself every night you come here. It's your eyes that you're more concerned with. They've never looked so... _warm_ before. That's not why you're here, however. That's _never_ why you're here.

You're here for the thing that's behind your reflection. That's right - those pills. You fling open the cabinet and after some rummaging around, you pull out the bottle. You only need two. Two small pills slide gracefully out of the bottle. You don't give it much attention. Instead they go straight into your mouth, the water helping them sail down your throat. You dump the remaining water in the sink, rinse out the glass, and place it where you found it. After turning all the lights off, you drag yourself back to bed.

* * *

You struggle to stay awake in class. You see the projector for the SMARTboard turn on and off within the blink of an eye. It makes you wonder why she even turned it on in the first place. The teacher gives you a batch of problems and you have no idea how to do them… You decide to sleep through the rest of the class.

The only class you ever seem to be excited about is lunch. It's the only time where you're not annoyed by ridiculous demands from teachers and boy are you excited for this particular period; you manage to spot Mitt. 'What a lousy brat,' you think to yourself. Your mind was made up that the only reason he even has friends is because he has rich parents. He's such a loser.

"Hey," you holler at Mitt without thinking much of it. "I got something to say to you, Mitt!"

"Oho~, so you do," that prep huffs. "Make it quick! My dad is bringing us real food, soon."

"You've reached an all-time low beating up a _plant_ ," you mock. "You pathetic worm!"

Mitt's friends seem to laugh alongside him. "I know you are but what am I?"

"Stupid."

"I know you are, but what am I?" Oh no, you've seen this before, but inertia hits your train of thought.

"Retarded."

"I know you are, but what am I?" Within the midst, an idea pops into your head and a sly grin stretches your mouth. You cross your arms.

"Rich."

"I know you are, but what am- oh."

"Oh thank you. I'm richer than you, anyway AND I have better parents than you." By this point, the boys around Mitt had long since quiet down. Mitt's face flushes even redder than your cheeks. He's trembling, as if he is about to let you have it. Then, as if something hit him in the head, he smiles.

"So you have money too, huh," he asked.

"Uuh yeah," you shrugged. "Of course we do." Suddenly, Mitt extends his hand out to you.

"You wanna be friends?"

You know this has to be a trap. Nobody goes from wanting to kill you to being nice within a millisecond. Though seeing his blood thrown along the floor brings a smile to your face. As much as you don't want to kill anyone, you also don't find this loser's life worth sparing from the hungry thoughts that plague you. As gruesome as they are, even they deserve a little snack. You inquire him just before making the deal, however.

"What is in it for me?

"Well," Mitt begins. "You can come to my house and play video games, and we have a pool and golf, and movies, and boxing, and sometimes my big brother comes and brings us treats!" Suddenly he sets his messenger bag on the table and pulls out a strange bottle. "My brother bought this for us to try. He says all the big kids drink this."

You stumble back at what Mitt holds in front of you. Oh yeah, _for big ._ Your mind is flooding with images. You've seen those kind of bottles before. You've seen what a mess they make when you smash them. You've seen how they'd slice your hands if you clutch to them hard enough or how they cut your fingers if you're not paying attention. The blood always seemed to mix with your tears. _You've also seen how a person can really struggle just to stay alive after slicing it across their neck a few times. Over and over and over again..._ Your face cringes in disgust at the bottle. Living with such a nurturing mother as Toriel, you thought you'd never live to see the day.

"Hey, don't you want to be like the big kids," one kid asks.

"Yeah, don't you want to be friends with us," asks another. "You have to take it, bro!"

"It's our welcome gift to you." Mitt brings the bottle closer to you in a reaffirming manner, expecting that you take it out of his hands. You don't want this to drag out more than it should. Clearing your thoughts, you close your eyes. You reluctantly take the bottle. Mitt grabs your other hand and shakes it firmly.

"I'm Chara," you introduce.

"Nice to meet you, Chara," Mitt chirps. "Welcome to the circle."


End file.
